Sam Winchester: The Curse Of The Brown FlipFlops
by Evil Sprinkle
Summary: Sam Winchester is many things, but materialistic is not one of them. However, he does have one possession, besides his beloved laptop, that he would dread living without.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing but a warped imagination and a weird sense of humour. I got my inspiration for this after spending hours chuckling at the picture.**

_If you happen to be sensitive towards flip-flop abuse, I wouldn't continue_

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**The Curse Of The Brown Flip-Flops**

Sam Winchester is many things, but materialistic is not one of them. However, he does have one possession, besides his beloved laptop, that he would dread living without.

His brown flip-flops.

Sam remembers the day he bought them as clear as can be. Dean had spent the previous night in a bar and was most likely waking up with a hangover next to some girl or girl-dude (but we won't go into that), whose name he couldn't remember. Meanwhile, Sam was shopping. His usual shoes were no longer serving their purpose. The weather was getting hotter and trainers were no long practical.

He'd browsed through numerous windows, staring blankly at the many weird shoes designed for summer, most of which looked more fit for a Barbie than a man like himself. He was considering giving up and going home defeated and empty handed when he passed a small shop on the street corner. His eyes were immediately drawn to a pair of shoes in the centre of the rack. They weren't just any shoes, they were summer shoes, manly looking shoes, brown flip-flops. He took a closer looked and wanted them immediately. They were perfect, just what he'd been looking for.

Sam entered the shop to get a closer look. These flip-flops were too good to be true. He walked to the rack and picked them out. The grey-black rubber soles were firm, yet comfortable, the tan brown leather straps had strips down the sides and to top it all of, they were the last pair and they were in his size. Sam didn't hesitate and purchased them straight away, rushing back to the motel room to try them on.

He sat on the edge of his bed and removed them from the box, placing them on the floor in front of his feet as he slipped off his trainers and socks. He slowly slipped his feet into them, they fitted perfectly, nice a snug around his toes but not too tight. He was sat happily wiggling his toes when the room door opened to reveal Dean. He was wearing the same clothes as the night before, only now he had dark sunglasses concealing his eyes.

He glanced down at Sam's feet before lying down his bed with a groan. Suddenly, he slowly sat up, removing his sunglasses and cocking his eyebrow as he looked down to Sam's feet. Slowly his face turned to a grimace, "Dude, those things are fugly." He informed him, shaking his head in disgust at Sam's feet.

"They're not. They're comfortable and practical for the weather." Sam replied snootily, smiling slightly at his new purchase.

"Whatever you say, but seriously, sandals?"

"They're not sandals, they're flip-flops!" Sam shouted defensively.

"Whatever, they're girly and ugly. How the hell are you gonna run in those things?"

"Perfectly well. They fit perfectly."

"Oh yeah, so perfectly. I can imagine it now, us running then turning around to find one hell of a pissed off Demon with one of your poo brown girl sandals in its mouth." Dean quipped, lying back down on the bed and placing his sunglasses back on.

"They're flip-flops!" Sam shouted again. Dean mumbled a whatever before saying something about having a nap. It wasn't long before Sam could hear heavy breathing coming from the bed next to him. In all honesty he felt like pranking Dean, he had every right to do something after the string of comments he'd just received regarding his footwear of choice.

Over the next few weeks Sam wore his flip-flops every day. In a way Dean was right, they were pretty impractical for their line of work. When he was running on rocky surfaces, small stones got underneath his feet, piercing the skin. Sometimes one of his flip-flops would fly off behind him, meaning he had to quickly back up and get it. He stubbed his toes more times than he could count and they certainly weren't easy to drive in. However, no matter how much trouble they caused for him, he refused to admit it. He wouldn't let Dean win, so he continued to wear his impractical hindering flip-flops.

"Sam, can you take those things off, they're embarrassing," Dean muttered, as they headed off down the street, walking quicker so he was in front of Sam. Sam quickened his pace so he was walking next to his brother. "Dude seriously, drop back, people might start thinking we're gay or something, especially with you having those darn things on your feet." Dean quickly looked around to ensure no one was staring at them.

"Dean, stop being so paranoid, plenty of men wear flip-flops. The only thing that's going to capture anyone's attention is you storming ahead and looking shiftily at everything." Sam informed him, trying to get his brother to see sense and stop overreacting.

Dean quickened his pace again, almost to a small jog in order to get away from Sam. He could hear the sound of the flip-flops flapping before his long legged brother appeared in front of him. His hair had it's usual centre parting, the curtains sweeping out to either side like a gust of wind would cause him to take off any minute. Dean cursed Sam's hair and his choice of footwear. The only comforting thought being; if anyone mistook them for a couple, he would be the butch one and Sam his bitch.

"Dean," Sam started, placing his hands on his brothers shoulders to prevent him from running. "No one's looking,"

"Get the hell off me dude, you and your lady shoes are weird enough, and combined with the hair, you look like a rent boy." Dean said in a hushed voice, shrugging off Sam's hands. "Come on, let's get this over with before you attract a crowd, because right now, if an old man offered me a Dollar for you, I'd sell." And with that he marched off down the street, Sam keeping a safe distance behind.

Sam woke up, the sun was shining brightly through the thin curtains of the room. Dean's bed was empty, making Sam come to the conclusion he'd gone out to get them some breakfast. Sam got washed and dressed before walking over to his bag to retrieve his flip-flops. However, something was wrong, there was only one flip-flop there. He lifted up his bag, checked in his bag, under the bed, but it wasn't anywhere in sight.

Within moments Sam had the entire room turned upside down, all in aid of searching for his flip-flop but it was nowhere to be found. Sam was in the middle of tearing through Dean's bag when his brother returned to find a flustered Sam sitting on the floor.

"Did I miss a tornado?" Dean asked. Sam looked up at his brother. His hands were empty, not even a coffee or small sandwich in sight.

"Where is it?" Sam asked through gritted teeth, standing to his feet with only one flip-flop.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "Where's what?" Dean asked, looking around as if to find some form of evil room-trashing pixie-elf, but there was nothing there.

"My flip-flop, where is it?"

Dean slammed the door, stepping over the mess to stand near his bed. "How am I supposed to know."

"You should know because you've got it."

"What the hell would I want with an ugly brown girl sandal. Unlike you I ain't into that I have style."

"Well you've hidden it then. You're always complaining about me wearing them so you thought if you hid it I wouldn't be able to wear them anymore!" Sam shouted, his hands on his hips in a rather camp fashion. "Well let me tell you something, you're not gonna win. I'm wearing this flip-flop even if I have to hop around." He stated firmly, hopping towards the door to make a point. However, this seemed to go awry as he tripped over his old pair of trainers, landing flat on his face with a 'oomph'.

"That's a sign that you should be wearing normal man shoes."

Dean sighed in irritation before walking into the bathroom. Sam heard the water running and a few minutes later Dean returned. Sam was lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling when something connected with his face. "Is this what you were looking for? Didn't check in there did you? Of course not, you were too busy turning the entire room upside down."

Sam sat up glaring at Dean before placing the flip-flop on his foot and standing swiftly to his feet, his arms folded across his chest.

"What? You've turned into the Superhero Sandal man, now?" Dean asked mockingly, flopping down on his bed.

Over the next few days, one of his flip-flops went missing again and again, alternating between the left and right foot. Towards the end of the week Sam was sat in the passenger's seat of the Impala, listening to Dean sing loudly along to Blue Oyster Cult. They were on their way Bobby's and Sam was in a foul mood. He understood that Dean hated his flip-flops, but he didn't understand why he had to constantly hide them. Dean hadn't admitted it, but Sam was positive he was behind it.

They arrived at Bobby's after what seemed like a lifetime. They parked the car and got out, heading into Bobby's house. As usual Bobby was sat behind a desk in his living room, pouring over some book written in ancient text. The brothers entered, greeting Bobby before sitting down on the sofa. Bobby got up from his chair, sitting in the comfortable looking armchair beside Dean.

"So, what can I do for you boys?" Bobby asked, looking at the brothers. Sam sighed, slouching some more in the chair, placing his foot up onto the old table while Dean explained the reason behind their visit. As Dean insisted he had nothing to do with the constant disappearance of Sam's beloved flip-flop, he decided they should pay Bobby a visit and see if he had any theories behind it.

Sam was minding his own business, admiring his flip-flop covered foot on the table when the conversation going on next to him came to a sudden halt. He looked up to see Bobby staring wide eyed at his foot. Sam look down as well in fear something was about to cut off his big toe, but nothing was there.

"What the hell is that?" Bobby asked loudly, scrunching his face up at the sight of the flip-flop.

"Sammy's beloved lady sandals, the ones that keep going missing."

"Well I can tell you now there sure as hell ain't anything in the world that would want to steal that thing." He said, pointing a finger towards Sam's shoe. Sam defensively moved his foot from the table and placed in on the floor out of Bobby's eye line. Sam pouted, looking down at his feet. He didn't understand what was so wrong with them. Sure, they weren't the most practical shoes in the world and even though he knew they weren't to everyone's taste, he certainly didn't think they were ugly or embarrassing.

"If anything was going to steal them, they'd take them both and bury them in a large hole in the middle of nowhere." Dean said smugly, shuddering as he looked at the footwear once more.

Sam spent the rest of the evening enduring the mocking comments from Bobby and Dean such as; 'they're ugly', 'they're impractical', 'who in their right mind would make them, never mind sell them', 'they're a curse on the world', 'they're a crime'. A particular comment from Dean made Sam decide it was time for him to go to bed. 'Why do you want to walk around looking like someone smeared dog dirt on your foot, and also, you can see your toe hair…not a good look dude'.

The next morning Sam woke to find that as usual, Dean's bed was empty. He got dressed before looking under his bed to retrieve his flip-flops. Considering they'd been going missing, Sam had decided to hide them, however this had failed as now, both flip-flops were gone. He quickly marched down stairs to find Dean, he knew he was behind it. Bobby was right, there wasn't such thing as a Demon or Spirit who stole random brown flip-flops.

He charged into the living room, but no one was there. There wasn't anyone in the kitchen either. He searched the entire house, making sure his brother wasn't hiding somewhere before marching outside. Bobby and Dean were stood in front of a large metal barrel, a fire burning inside it. He walked carefully towards them, avoiding standing on the large hard stones on the ground. As he got closer he saw one of his flip-flop's—it was clutched in Bobby's hand—and he knew what they were intending to do with it.

He ran forwards, the souls of his feet hurting from the gravel, "Please, no!" he shouted loudly. Dean and Bobby looked up at him.

"It's for you own good, Sammy!" Dean shouted, taking a few steps towards his brother.

Sam stopped in front of Dean, leaning to the side to look at Bobby who's hand was gripped tightly around his flip-flop. "Look, please, don't do this. I won't wear them all the time."

"That's not good enough Sammy, those things are a curse. Ever since you've got them you've had nothing but bad luck." He pointed to Sam's lip. A few days earlier Sam had been walking down the street, the front of his flip-flop got caught on a gap in the pavement, sending him flying through the air and face first into a lamppost.

"That was my fault, don't blame the flip-flops!" Sam pleaded.

Dean shook his head before turning to look at Bobby. "Torch it Bobby." Dean ordered. Bobby didn't hesitate and dropped the flip-flop into the fire.

Sam ran forwards, but it was too late. The smell of burning rubber was strong in the air and he could see the remains of his other flip-flop, curled up in a blob at the bottom of the small barrel. Once the fire was out, Sam stood staring down into the pot. All that was left of his beloved brown footwear was a small bundle of rubber and a strong smell of charred materials. A wave of sadness hit him so hard he thought it would burst through his chest.

He should've known Dean had been hiding his flip-flop. Denying it had been part of his plan. He wanted Bobby to be able to see Sam's footwear, to show him exactly what he meant so he could get Bobby in on his plot to destroy the brown footwear once and for all.

He felt a hand land on his shoulder, "It was for the best, Sam." Bobby's voice said from behind him. Sam tensed. Sure, he could have shouted at them, but there was no point, no amount of yelling was going to bring his flop-flops back. Sam sighed and walked with Bobby and Dean back to the house.

"Just think, maybe now that you're girl sandals are gone, you'll actually get yourself laid!" Dean chuckled loudly before running into the house. Sam shook his head, sure, he was pissed off about his flip-flops but he wouldn't change his brother for the world.

**The End.**

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**Thanks for reading!**


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